


Animal Crackers

by Calamityjim



Series: Liminal Spaces [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22222237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calamityjim/pseuds/Calamityjim
Summary: In which Dami demands and who is Alfred to say no?
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Damian Wayne
Series: Liminal Spaces [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1414078
Comments: 42
Kudos: 1595





	Animal Crackers

**Author's Note:**

> It's a total fluff piece.

“Pennyworth!”

Master Dami marched into the room, his hands clasped behind his back, a gesture the boy only used when he had something very serious to say and when he was convinced that others would contravene his wishes.

The boy had been here long enough that he rarely fell into that stance, though when he did he often asked for small luxuries that were easy for a Wayne to provoid. They were usually easy for an Al Ghul to provide as well but the Al Ghuls did not raise children; they sharpened weapons. 

“How may I be of assistance, Master Dami?”

“Prepare me soup!” 

Alfred glanced up at the clock. Lunch had been not long ago and Master Dami had certainly eaten his fill. Even Master Tim had eaten what Alfred would consider a decent size portion. Alfred was tempted to deny the boy, but Master Dami was staring at Alfred with the intensity of Master Bruce when he was trying to hide how heartbroken he would be if denied. 

And it was a fairly harmless request. 

“Now?” Alfred asked benignly to ensure that he was reading the situation correctly. 

“Indeed.” Master Dami popped onto his toes to punctuate the word, which was probably the most childish thing Alfred have ever seen the boy do. 

So soup it was, though Alfred was at a loss as to how a bowl of soup had become something Master Dami was so invested in. “Is there a particular soup that you are interested in?”

Master Dami pulled one hand away from his back to place consideringly on his chin as he started to pace. “Something simple, with easily accessible ingredients. It must be hearty but not much that it is too heavy for someone ill to handle. Palatable as well.”

“I have a few recipes like that. I will go check the pantry to see which I have the ingredients for.” Setting the polishing rag down, Alfred made his way to the kitchen, Master Dami following at his heels. Alfred was not surprised. Master Dami enjoyed control as much as his father did and there was little doubt that the boy would not leave Alfred to this business until he had chosen the dish.

Alfred rifled through the pantry, keeping Master Dami’s requirements in mind. The boy was a vegetarian, so any of his recipes with meat were immediately discarded. He stepped out, intending to call out options to the boy, but instead bumped into Master Dami as he had, for whatever reason, elected not to sit at the kitchen counter. 

Master Dami did not snap at the encroachment of his space though he did tap his foot impatiently. “Well?”

Alfred blinked. What was going on with the boy? “How does butternut squash, garlic, and apple soup sound?” It would keep, as Alfred was certain that Master Dami had no intention of eating it after it was finished. 

“It’s adequate.” High praise, coming from Master Dami. 

Alfred began to pull the needed ingredients from the pantry and the fridge. He set them in the sink, knowing they would need to be cleaned, before moving to the oven.

“What are you doing?”

Once again Alfred was surprised to find Master Dami right at his elbow, watching Alfred set the oven’s temperature. “I’m preheating the oven.”   
  
“Why?” the boy demanded imperiously.

“So it will be the correct temperature when the vegetables go in.” Alfred said absently. He reached into a cupboard and pulled out a baking sheet, setting it on the counter. Next he pulled out the parchment paper and began to line the tray. 

“Why are you putting paper into pan?” The question came from under Alfred’s shoulder.

Alfred narrowed his eyes. “So the vegetables do not stick to the baking sheet.” Dami had demanded soup, yes, but he was watching Alfred with the scrutiny that Bruce reserved for suspects and had the matching interrogation techniques. Yes, Master Dami had demanded soup, but the boy was not especially good at making requests. Alfred, guided by years of parenting experience, took a guess. “Next we prepare the vegetables. Would you like to help me cut them?” 

Dami flashed a brilliant smile. 

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Master Dami watched as Alfred covered the pot to place it in the fridge. It would be reheated in a few hours for supper. Everyone was going to try it and they were going to enjoy it and they were going to praise Master Dami’s contribution or there would be terrible consequences, though Alfred doubted it would come to that. Despite his eccentricities, or perhaps because of them, Master Dami was a well loved member of the family.

“How does it feel to be an official chef?” Alfred asked Master Dami with a kind smile. 

Instead of smiling back, Master Dami looked pensive. “I am still inadequate.” Alfred’s eyebrows flew to his hairline. That was not the experience he wanted to have imparted on the boy. Seemingly oblivious to his reaction, Master Dami sighed. “One recipe is not enough."

“Not enough for what?” 

Master Dami shot Alfred a look that implied that the butler was being especially dense. “To feed Timothy. He is terrible at feeding himself and according to my book he is at constant risk of relapse. You are both the source of meals and old. If you expire then it will fall to me to ensure that Timothy’s meals are well prepared. But I cannot serve him a single soup for the rest of my life.”

Ignoring the part where Master Dami was actively preparing for Alfred’s death, the old butler found the sentiments rather sweet. Considering the boy had been raised to kill, and often embraced the fact that he had been raised to kill, and made sure to point out to everyone, including Gotham socialites, that he had been raised to kill, he had a nurturing personality. 

“I can show you more recipes,” Alfred said with a soft smile. “Master Jay also enjoys baking. I am certain that he would be pleased if you requested that he teach you a few tricks.”

Master Dami smiled shyly. “That would be adequate.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it. My mom's out of the hospital and hasn't been readmitted, but she's still not great and they don't know why. Also, my home country is set to have temperatures of -47ºC next week. Which is not ideal. 
> 
> Also, feel free to toss me a prompt right now. I can't promise I'll write yours, or any of them, but I'll probably try? I'm sure as hell not going outside if I don't have to.


End file.
